


Apology

by GentleReader1



Category: Glee
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-27
Updated: 2019-03-27
Packaged: 2019-12-25 13:11:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18261983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GentleReader1/pseuds/GentleReader1
Summary: Missing scene from "Power of Madonna."





	Apology

**Disclaimer:** Don't own Glee.

**Author's Note:** I know I'm not alone in thinking that the ending of "Power of Madonna" was missing one very crucial scene. So I humbly offer you my version. :)

* * *

**Apology**

You're freakin'  _kidding_  me.

Isn't it bad enough that we joined this stupid club? That we're  _singing_  in three-part harmony? (Though we do sound awesome.)

I mean, do we have to totally give our Y-chromosome cards away?

_Do you know  
What it feels like in this world  
For a girl…_

Yeah. Just bring on those slushies, thanks.

What? OK. We're not performing this one. Point carried. Hah.

Oh, Jesus. Now Sir Finn the Good is telling us we have to "make things right with the girls." I don't even know what that  _means_. Well, I know what it means to  _me_  ("baby, just let me make it right"), but I'm pretty sure he's not talking about sex.

Twenty minutes later, I see Artie mashing with Tina by the piano. Nice job, Wheels. I round the corner and there's Finn with Rachel, being all noble. He even shakes Jesse St. Jerkoff's hand.  _That_  guy? Is SO going to screw us over… Rachel, too, if he hasn't already.

And Mr. Schue is probably down on one knee, promising Ms. Pillsbury that he'll wash his hands every five minutes from now on.

Well.

Since Mike and Matt have never said a word in Glee practice, and Kurt's all "Girl Power!", I guess that just leaves me.

What the hell do I have to apologize for? I mean, OK. Maybe I've made a few fat comments lately. And maybe I've been chatting up a few Cheerios. (Which means  _nothing_ —it's not even sexting!)

But, c'mon, I'm a 16-year-old  _dude_ , not a monk. And I'm doing the right thing, right? Giving up MILFs, working my ass off, standing by my baby mama.

I totally respect Quinn. I haven't tried to get her to do it in, like, weeks. (She says the same thing every time: "Not happening, Puck." Why not? It's not like she could get pregnant.)

But I'm not going to bail on her, even though I have needs. And not just because she has the latest Puckerman in her belly. Nah—look at her. She's smart. Classy. And, bump or no bump…smokin' hot: not just the shiny hair, the gorgeous eyes, but something in her smile, like she has a secret, y'know?

And she believes, somehow, that I'm not a Lima Loser—that I'll be a good dad.

So I walk up to her, brush one silky piece of hair off her shoulder. And take something out of my back pocket, something I've been wanting to give her for awhile anyway.

She looks up, surprised, as I fasten it around her wrist. It's not fancy or anything—just a silver chain with a tiny shoe on it—but it was my bubbe's.

"What's this for?" she asks. All these reasons come to my mind and get tangled on my tongue, so I'm just standing there like an idiot.

She reaches up and kisses me—really kisses me—her cheeks are a little wet—I pull her closer and I don't care who's watching or how many slushie facials I get.

And I think she knows I'm sorry.

* * *

 

**Note** : "Bubbe" is Yiddish for grandmother…but you probably figured that out.

 


End file.
